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Paragraph 26: Eve of Change

Weeks had passed since the Immortals had left the dark and corrupted lands of King Constantine behind. The journey had been a hard one and the darkness of the land had infected far more than the weary clan had anticipated as they endured many more losses on their trip to a final destination as of yet unknown.

Albertus and Dennizon led their people with fierce determination but its toll was shown in their weary countenances and shortness of patience. Count Freedom ever stood by their side, assisting them in ministering to their people and trying to give his special brand of encouragement to their downtrodden and ever more hopeless people. It was a brutal job in particular because of the robust echelon of nobles and the original four High Councilors only these three remained to do their duty. Farseer lay on a stretcher carried by two young boys and the last remaining Council Guard member Phoenix. The rest of that grand and elite army of the High Council had been all but decimated in the battle against Legion at the behest of the corrupt and fallen King Constantine. Farseer himself was more often than not unconscious as he had taken a grievous wound to the head from his valiant fight against Legion himself, and many smaller serious wounds in addition. Without his added assistance, and the loss of Councilor Vadrigald before that, fifty percent of the High Council had been lost and its full weight fell on the shoulders of the two remaining. Aside from this lot, the people themselves had suffered grievous loss as well. Many a Knight, Squire, and commoner walked aimlessly it seemed for their nobles had been lost to the evil scourge of their former home. Gone were Valandir, Microchip, Dryren, and more of the more influential leaders of the courts and shires. Some had fallen victim to the evil influence of the land like Valandir while others could not bear the loss of their riches and, as they saw it prestige, or riches like Microchip who was heard howling late into the night at times or railing against his servants until one morning he and his personal advisor, Viper, had just gone. Some had simply stayed behind, unwilling to forfeit the lands they had defended for so long. Among these were Eugor, the couple Gili and Arama, Dragoondor, Firama, and countless others who could not reconcile the loss or agree with the High Council’s reason for leaving. For days this sort of thing happened until the massive exodus of Immortals had dwindled to a mere penance of its former number.

There were those who seemed undaunted by it all like Caerial, the serene and ever dutiful healer who tended the sick and injured while only resting a hour or so a night herself. Dennizon often checked in on her to make sure she didn’t work herself to the point of exhaustion and to thank her for her efforts. Umores, was stoic as usual and said little though he was ever in pace with the High Council’s lead in this march of the Immortals. Phoenix, even though he lead the procession carrying Farseer stood ever tall and straight and could often be seen polishing his armor in an attempt to radiate the grand image of his beloved, though now lost, Council Guard. Elder Mystic had received an urgent message from his long time friend Elder Jurek and took his leave early on with great regrets and expressed concern for the future of his people. But in all of this loss there had been good as well. Kitana sat at the head of her crusader army who now provided the depth and breadth of the Immortals’ defense. She had decided her people would leave their crusade and rejoin the Republic proper in their time of need. At her side sat her husband, whom much was not yet known, Jaha who was a giant of a man wielding a great sword and wearing highly polished armor. There were others who had rejoined with Kitana and Jaha such as Metalmaniac, Elder Silencer, Azcon, Zen, Ultima, Doomwolf, Larohan, Zakaire, a new addition to the Republic known as Crown who was the brother of Zakaire, and others who emerged from behind layers of armor to show their familiar and very much welcomed faces.

But this was the bulk of the Immortals now. The once grand Republic had dwindled in number to the point of a wandering band of friends it seemed with families lost and all that was familiar left behind.

The weeks had passed slowly, and today’s procession seemed no different than any other. Endless. However, this day was not to be the usual and it was Dennizon who spoke first as the dust from their party elicited a cough from Count Freedom. “The wind holds the smell of smoke today lest my sense of smell deceives me.” He said with an upturned nose and a puzzled look on his face. “All I smell is dust.” Count Freedom said with disgust as he tried to rearrange the cloth mask he kept draped across his face. “Aye, it is overpowering to be sure, but I could swear that there is smoke intermixed with it today.” Dennizon added matter-of-factly. Albertus said nothing but shot Dennizon a meaningful look that clearly said he smelled it too.

Hours passed and the sun set without incident on what seemed yet another day of endless travel through the plains and rolling hills they had been traversing for weeks now. It was Phoenix, who came each night with the customary report of the camp, who pointed out the dull red light of the sunset hours after it should have been gone from sight. “Now that is strange” acknowledged Count Freedom who screwed up his eyes and squinted into the night as if he was seeing things. “The time is past. The sunset should be fully passed by this time yet the horizon still bears its presence.” He concluded with a puzzled tone speaking aloud thoughts that he no doubt meant for his mind alone. “It’s these blasted days is all” spat Umores in an uncharacteristic outburst of frustration. “I never thought I would see land so flat and foreboding that the sunset would stay to mock you as if your day could never come to a close!”

Freedom shot an annoyed look at Umores but said nothing. He knew all too well the frustration the people felt as he felt it himself more each passing day. Albertus and Dennizon, though listening as usual, said nothing but merely continued to play their game of chess quietly beside the campfire outside of their tents. Phoenix lingered a moment and exchanged quiet words with Dennizon, no doubt regarding the security of the camp, before exchanging salutes and marching off into the night. Caerial quickly replaced him though with tidings of Farseer and the people in general. “He had a spasm of fits again. He lies quietly now but I doubt it will last long. Today he muttered something about danger again and didn’t respond at all to my words of explanation as to our exodus and that the danger lies behind us.” She said in reference to the injured and ailing Councilor. “Farseer is an honorable man.” Replied Freedom stoutly. “He dreams of our safety and seeks to secure it even as he did in full health” His voice trailed off in sadness at these words. Dennizon look sidelong at Freedom whose head was downcast with thoughts of Farseer and his sacrifice in the caves of their former home. Freedom felt the loss of every clansman perhaps more keenly than any other. It was his most endearing quality, his passion and care for those he led. It was also wearing him down daily in Dennizon’s assessment and it seemed to amount of encouragement brought the noble Count out of these bouts of depression. “It is the way of things,” he said quietly, “Farseer is still with us and we must be grateful for that even in the midst of his suffering Farseer is still alive and fighting to survive.” “Indeed, take heart Freedom, for it was Farseer alone who instilled the resolve in our fellow Albions to rush the evil Legion so that not all would perish. The joy is actually in the sacrifice and for the lives spent, I doubt it much that Farseer himself regrets his current situation.” Albertus added in his usual wizened tone. “Well regretful or not he still bears grievous wounds.” Caerial said sourly. “It seems that no matter what spell or incantation I place on him he never fully heals. I even tried poultices from some ridiculous witch doctor we encountered on the road some days ago but he still lies in this fitful limbo.” “But his wounds have closed and healed, what more can there be wrong with him?” Freedom inquired unable to accept Farseer’s continued ailment. “Yes his outward wounds are healed,” Caerial replied in an agitated tone no doubt tired of explaining her arts to those not versed in them what with the little sleep she received, “but it is the inward ones that vex him still. For those I fear there is little I can do.” With a heavy sigh she sat down to warm her hands at the fire by which Albertus and Dennizon continued their chess game. “Well perhaps with time even those wounds will heal.” Freedom added hopefully before turning his attention to Albertus and Dennizon. Freedom himself was an avid chess player and loved to watch such games even if he weren’t playing himself. He admired the game in general for it was one requiring the use of ones finer qualities in his opinion. He relished the tense games in which strategy and applied thought could render an opponent useless in a matter of moves. With his skill this was often the case with his opponent. He liked those types of games but he also liked those wherein such was the skill of the opponents that the game continued to evolve and never seemed likely to end for the movement of the skilled masters of the pieces. This was one such a game. Albertus and Dennizon both had years of experience in leading both on and off the battlefield. Their talents in battle were matched equally with their talents in diplomacy should they desire and those traits were markedly present in this game. He watched as Dennizon marched his pieces in brutal assault upon Albertus’ until it looked as though the docile old man would lose the battle, only to see that Albertus had seen just such a move coming and had discreetly placed his pieces in a seemingly harmless fashion, ready to strike a fatal blow should Dennizon execute his prized move. He watched as these things went back and forth and the strategies exchanged sides, often seeing things he would have done differently, but admiring the skill of the two players nonetheless. So engrossed in their moves was he that he nearly jumped when the board and pieces were violently knocked down in a dramatic bravado of the miniature pieces and everyone was shocked back into awareness. Albertus and Dennizon seemed torn between aggravation at the upset of their game and the utter oddity of the situation for now it was plain to see a smoldering hold in the middle of the board.

“Did the campfire pop an ember into the board?” Asked Dennizon looking at the board clearly agitated. “I have no idea” said Albertus sounding very puzzled. “Is anyone hurt?” Asked Caerial urgently, clearly concerned with the men’s physical wellbeing. “Fine, fine” muttered Dennizon still looking around the board as if to find the culprit. Freedom however did not need to look for he could see quite clearly what had happened. He slowly stood, walked to the board, picked it up from the two adjacent rocks it was perched on, and set it aside. He pointed his hand at the still smoking crystal the size of a large coin imbedded deeply into the ground.

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